


Twilight

by kittypox



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: An epic saga, Dad Kogane - Freeform, Krolia, M/M, Mysterious blood lines, Norse and Pict mythology, Pict Keith, SHEITH - Freeform, Viking AU, Viking Shiro, mysterious pasts, other characters present, seer keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:44:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittypox/pseuds/kittypox
Summary: Guided by perilous visions sent from the Allfather himself, Shiro travels the wild ocean to seek out and eliminate a magical foe that threatens earth, mankind, and the Gods themselves. But his arrival has been foretold and he is met not by a sorcerer of dark arts, but a seer of unfathomable wisdom and power who coerces the viking warrior into a task of his own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *clears throat* Presenting, TWILIGHT, a K squared production. Hailed by tumblr's @curddledoodle as "A love story better than it's predecessor". 
> 
> But in all seriousness, a lot of time and research went into this project and I would have been up a creek without a paddle without Curddle's help. She is very knowledgeable on the subject of Norse mythology and when I was too lazy to look things up myself, she would get the information for me. 
> 
> So a few notes to help ease the reading process, if you get lost.
> 
> The Norse and the Picts were two similar societies that existed at the same time (roughly 800 to 900 AD is when this story takes place). The Norse vikings hail from northern Europe, from countries like Sweden, Norway, and Iceland. The Picts were a similar culture, albeit with slightly better horticultural talents, that lived in Northern Scotland. They existed alongside Catholicism in England and Scotland, although they were a polytheistic culture.
> 
> And a few terms to help along the way
> 
> Hof: the Norse version of a temple. Not so much a church, where people went to gather and pray, but a sacred site.
> 
> Ragnorak: Literally translates to "Twilight of the Gods". It's the Norse version of the end of says, where the Gods of Asgard will go up against the monsters of earth. It's said that the gods will die in this battle, along with all of humankind. 
> 
> The Great Winter: A part of Norse lore, heralding the beginning of Ragnorak
> 
> Most people will recognize the names of the Gods and monsters (Odin, Loki, Fenrir, etc) but if you have questions, don't be afraid to ask! Quickest method is to hit me up on my tumblr (kittypox)
> 
> And so, our story begins...

Time was running short. Even as the ship crested upon the shore, prow burying deep in the soft, yielding sand beach, heavy flakes of snow gathered on the fur of his cloak and a bone-harrowing chill seeped slowly through his leather boots, numbing his toes. The Great Winter had followed them across the sea, pelting them with sleet, numbing them with snow, intent to grasp the entire world in its icy grip, so it seemed. With a low grumble, he adjusted the hood of his cloak and crossed the shore. There was an outcropping of rock on the crest of a hill that might provide him with a decent view of the lands. 

The ground felt foreign beneath his feet, sinking and giving way to the weight of his heel as if struggling to trap him, forbidding him from moving forward. It reminded him a bit of the soft, pliant earth of his mother country, filled with dense forests and mossy mountainsides. He knew such terrain; he could maneuver around it. With practiced grace, he climbed the steep hill and stood atop the rocky summit. At so low a point, there was little to see, but a cursory scan of the territory provided him some crucial details. Of first note was that they would be walking into a well fortified village; spanning the entirety of the shore was thick forest of sturdy trees; building supplies were not in short supply. His conclusion was backed up by the second item of note; the vast number of fowl and fish present. These people would be well fed and hearty. Hearty warriors could be troublesome. 

His gaze dropped from the verdant landscape to the beach of pale sand. Nothing like the pebbly beaches of their homeland. Would it make a difference? He doubted it, though the villagers held home turf advantage. Who was to know what types of gullies, trenches, streams, or other land anomalies were about to aid in the villager's defenses?

He knew who could tell him.

"Mateus!"

At the ship figurehead, a young man stood to attention, hailing him in recognition. 

"Take to the forest." Shiro commanded, jerking his arm in indication. "Learn the lay of the land. Tell me what defenses they have and what pitfalls we need avoid."

A crooked grin turned the man's lips and with a hoot he darted off. Shiro watched the scrawny silhouette vanish into the thick brush, the young explorer disappearing in a cloud of fog and canopy of leaves. It was a formidable land. Shiro had seen worse. 

Mateus' younger sister met him at the shore when he returned to the ship. 

"Orders?"

He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "We wait until Mateus returns with news. I do not think these people will be of great difficulty to conquer, but given the circumstances that have seen fit to bring us here, I would much rather err on the side of caution."

The girl pursed her lips, as if she might speak against his command, then nodded her head. She, like the rest of their unorthodox crew, knew the reason for their voyage across the wild sea, to the lands of the heathen picts. Or so the prudish Anglos in their canvas robes with their golden crosses had dubbed their northern cousins. She held much doubt over the rumors of these supposedly wild people. 

A command from Odin, the allfather himself, demanded care though. If these picts were half as barbaric as they were led to believe, they could pose a threat. Stealth and strategy were needed. Their mission had to be successful. Failure was not an option. The fate of Midgard depended upon Shiro's successful slaughter of the pict's renowned seer.

Until Mateus returned with his report, they had to remain hidden. With the aid of the rest of the crew, they moored the longship amid the bluffs, hiding the vessel from obvious view. It would be some time before Mateus returned, so they made ready their weapons and prepared a meal. Gods willing, the town relied on the bounty of nature as its fortification and they would not need to surmount the defense of a great gate to enter the village. They would sweep through like a plague, burning and destroying all that dared stand in the way of great Odin's will. 

A lean-to was hastily constructed, tying together thick branches from a sturdy pine. It was weak cover at best, but it kept the worst of the snow from their heads. There was little to do about the bitter wind, whipping over the shore and cutting into their faces like a knife. 

Pigeon huddled at his side, tucking her hands beneath her armpits and scowling at the wilderness. Shiro spared her a single glance, able to see little of her face past the mat of unruly brown hair. Her mood often soured after a journey, when they made land and her navigating duties were complete. Until she had new duties assigned to her, she would pout. So long as she kept her peace, Shiro would allow her moodiness. 

While Pigeon maintained her solitude, the rest of the crew gathered their weapons and made ready. Attack at dawn was their typical modus operandi, but in foreign lands, they did not put aside the possibility of being besieged. Weapons had to be always at the ready, shields within easy reach. 

Shiro's sword was sheathed at his side, awaiting use. He rarely used it. When combat called for his attention, he had a far better weapon. Slowly, meticulously, he ran a thin whetstone against the tapered nails of his gauntlet, sharpening them to a point so fine that barely a touch could draw blood. The rest of the gauntlet that spanned from elbow to wrist was mottled, black in most places, save the deep trenches of delicate carvings and protective runes. The talons shone though, gleaming silver, well polished and maintained, testament to their great use. 

He felt the weight of Pigeon's stare, as he often did when he took to sharpening his personal weapon. Even among his crew, his beast-shaped gauntlet stirred fear and revulsion. 

"Do you require something?" he asked shortly. 

She huffed, turning her face away. "Just admiring." She paused a moment. "What are your plans?"

"I gave them earlier this day."

"Sweeping in like a plague and killing a single member of the society is little of a plan. Master." she added the last with a cheeky grin. Honorifics were of little use among their band of misfits. 

Still, she was correct in her assertion. Shiro did not wish to let on to the knowledge that this task would not be as simple as he made it out to be when explaining to the crew. 

"How will you know this seer when you see him?" she prodded, ever the curious one. "Did the allfather grant you another vision?"

Nothing so useful, sadly. All Shiro knew was that the seer he was meant to find and slaughter resided in this hidden village and said seer was dangerous enough to warrant the attention of the high gods. Little else was told to him. He would know the seer when they met, though exactly how that fated meeting was to occur, Shiro truly did not know. 

With a sigh, he tucked the whetstone into the pouch at his side and examined the file of his gauntlet nails. "I will know this seer when our paths cross." he said evenly, outwardly portraying more confidence than he felt. "If we must gather the entirety of the village and kill them all to get to him, then so be it. The seer cannot live; that is all that matters."

Pigeon continued to stare. From further within the lean-to, he heard the grumblings of some of his men, sharing her concern over the lack of details provided. It was a vague mission at best. When he had roused that fateful morning and declared that the allfather has visited his dreams and given him a quest, he had received no few doubtful looks. They were not the type that the allfather would deign to visit. Of greater confusion...

"Why would the allfather visit you? A heathen to his lands and a nonbeliever?" Mateus had asked incredulously, the true nonbeliever of the group. In all of his travels, after all he had endured, Shiro was prone to believe that there was some sort of deity about, watching over him. The gift of his gauntlet was further proof. If he dwelled on it, Shiro supposed that he should have expected a favor to be asked of him soon; he was in their debt.

He had answered Mateus' query as gently as he could, but brooked no refusal. His men either accompanied him on this quest, or they went on their own, exiled from his company. Ever the loyal band of misfits, they all chose to stay by his side, foolish quest or no.

'With luck," he murmured in an attempt to quell their anxious rumblings, "the seer will easily be found at the village hof. That should not be difficult to find. The Gods do so enjoy their pomp."

A nervous chuckle arose from the huddled group.

Shiro flexed his gauntlet, pressing his mouth into a taut line. "We will discuss further when Mateus returns with his report."

=====

The sun had turned west, falling behind the line of forest and taking with it the last bit of comfort to be had in its muted rays of light. A rosy hue colored the sky as the beginnings of night crept in from the distance. Soon Nott and her great stead would cross the sky and they would be cloaked by darkness. The time was drawing close. 

Mateus appeared just as the last splash of vibrant sun disappeared, casting him in shadow as he bounded haplessly through the underbrush towards them. Someone lifted a bow in warning, puffing a great breath of relief when Mateus hailed joyfully from afar.

"It's strange." he began without preamble, veering straight towards Shiro and dropping to his knees before the man as he caught his wind. 

Shiro gave him a moment before asking, "What is strange?"

"The village. I found it, but it's far up the hill, on flat land."

Pigeon stepped closer, considering her brother's words. "Far up the hill? Away from the waters?"

At Mateus' nod of affirmation, Shiro hummed. He lifted his hand, stroking the harsh bristle of his beard in contemplation. "They must have another source of water to hunt fowl and fetch water."

"I didn't see such a thing..." Mateus said hesitantly, "but I did see cattle."

"Cattle?"

"Cattle. Great pens of them. And hogs and goats. There were so many pens--even some animals I had never seen before. And then, to the north of the village, I saw fields of harvest. They waved like gold in the wind, as far as my eye could see."

They were a self-sufficient people then, Shiro thought. They thrived off their own livestock and the fruits of the land. A wicked grin touched his lips. All the better for them. 

"And the hof?"

A small laugh escaped Mateus. He jerked his arms suddenly, sweeping them in a wide arc above his head. "Massive. You would not believe the size of it. It's bigger than the grand hall even. Whoever these people are, they must take their worship seriously to make a place so great."

But who did they worship? These were not Odin's lands, which often left Shiro begging the question as to why he was there, searching for a seer supposedly set to begin Ragnarok. Would this seer even comprehend what they spoke of? It seemed unlikely, but it was not his place to question. If the allfather wished this mortal dead, then so be it. He would bend himself to the task.

"Take your rest, Mateus." the man advised. "When dusk has fallen and the village sleeps, we will make our assault."

====

The crew made ready silently, unsheathing swords, taking up shields, grabbing torches. Shiro jerked his leather vest into place, taking the time to properly knot his bracers and arrange his fur cloak. He spared a moment to rub the silver amulet on his belt, invoking the strength and protection of Thor. They were bereft of the usual boisterous hooting and hollering that usually filled the air as they began a raid. Secrecy and the element of surprise was necessary. One out of place howl could bring the entire village down upon their heads and although Shiro doubted they would be felled by a pack of misfit farmers, he would rather go the easiest route and surprise their prey.

Like a whisper of wind, they moved silently through the winding labyrinth of solid trees, following Mateus over a trampled dirt path that would take them to the village. A pack of deer leaped past and at one point Shiro glanced to his side, spotting a single brown wolf hurrying along side of them. Well before they came within view of the village, Shiro commanded the party to split, sending small troops to flank either side of the village. He alone would approach by way of the main gate.

Easing through the darkness and carefully scanning the surroundings, Shiro was mildly surprised to find no lookouts or soldiers out on night patrol. Pursing his lips, he whistled sharply, signaling potential danger. Carefully, he took a step into the village. And then another. And another. When he was past the first longhouse and well into the village proper, he paused. 

The night was quiet, the livestock sleeping peacefully, as their human counterparts seemed to be. He flicked a hand towards one of the houses and Mateus snuck to the door, pushing it open carefully and peering in.

"All asleep." he whispered, jogging back to the man's side.

Shiro scowled. Something felt amiss. "Show me to the hof."

Mateus had not been wrong in his assessment. The steeple of the hof was visible even a great distance away, the blackened wood towering above the longhouses and other stone edifices, an intimidating monolith that even Shiro felt some level of awe over. 

"What did I tell you?" Mateus whispered. "What kind of gods do you worship that demand that type of honor?"

"I didn't come to investigate their piety. Go to the others; tell them to prepare. If they hear my call, begin burning the buildings and slaughtering the livestock. Round up any who flee."

The young man slipped into the shadows obediently. 

Shiro paused at the door to the intimidating hof, admiring the carvings of some heathen god rising from the under realm, brandishing a spear at a hoard of snapping wolves. Above the door and jutting from the steeples of the roof were more monstrous creatures, leering at him threateningly. Not all that different from Ragnarok, he supposed. Fenrir's brood was bound to be circling Asgard even as he stood there, contemplating the path he had been put upon. All the more reason to make haste. One less agent of chaos meant one less obstacle for the Gods.

It required the strength of both arms to push the massive door open, the thick wood creaking in protest as he forced his way into the hallowed ground. The inside of the hof was as grand as the outer, with a towering ceiling cast in gold. Massive panels of X's lined the walls of the church, some heathen symbol he did not recognize. Everywhere his eye fell, there was art, more wooden carvings adorning every buttress and crossbeam. There was a tale unfolding before his eyes, of men and gods and great monsters. It seemed a familiar story and he traced his eyes over a tableau depicting a great water serpent. His eyes followed the serpentine tail down a thick column, to a well of glittering water, strewn about with chalices and other offerings of unknown meaning.

Focus, he admonished himself, swinging his gaze towards the hearth burning at the center of the building. Stepping closer, he saw that the bricks containing the fire were equally adorned, rude figures dancing in the flame light. What narrative unfolded on their surface he did not care to discover. A poker sat by the hearth side and he reached for it, recoiling before he could grasp the handle when a sultry voice called from the blackness,

"I have been expecting you."

Shiro spun, flexing his talons in preparation to strike at a foe, come sneaking behind him. He found no such enemy. 

Several paces away stood a man of middling stature, thin as a wraith, raven black hair plaited cleanly away from his pale face. At least some of the tales of the picts had a grain of truth to them; the man's sallow cheeks were covered in arcing violet tattoos, as many of the heathens were claimed to have. He was regarded by a pair of wide eyes that shone like amethyst in the darkness. The eyes of a demon, Shiro thought, wriggling his taloned fingers in expectation. The man appeared unmoved, content to stare at him with a muted expression. 

"You are the seer." Shiro stated. 

The man nodded. As if there were any doubt; had he not been found in the hof, then the man's odd robes that touched the floor would have been testament to his unique status among the village. A beat of silence passed and the seer took the opportunity to move forward, walking slowly and purposely, velveteen robes of scarlet dragging heavily after him. From beneath the excessive folds of sleeve fabric, a delicate hand emerged, hovering over the hearth.

"I was told you would be coming, wolf."

"By whom?"

A lick of flame leaped into the seer's palm and he considered it carefully. "The Gods, of course."

Shiro flexed his gauntlet once more at the casual display of power. He did not believe it was meant to be an act of intimidation, but anyone who could so easily manipulate the elements was to be regarded with care. 

"Then they have told you why I have come." he snapped.

Still, the seer was unmoved. He glanced to the warrior, blinking sloe eyes limpidly. When he spoke again, the curious state of the man's nonchalance was solved.

"You are here to escort me."

"Escort you?" Shiro actually laughed at the notion. 

At last emotion flashed across the man's face; he was not keen on being the butt of a jest. "Yes, escort me, wolf. Do you take issue with the task the Gods have assigned you?"

"Great issue." Shiro answered honestly. "I do not know what your heathen gods have told you in your enchanted stupor, but I was sent by _my_ Gods and I was not sent to be your escort or dog."

"Ah, yes." the seer pursed his lips, extending his palm once more over the hearth and settling the flame back within. "The allfather and his brood. I should have expected as much, with you coming from the land of black sands."

"I never said such a thing."

"You did not need to say it; I was told. Now, wolf, let us not tarry and waste our time, if you please. We were beset upon this path for a reason and I do not wish to play with the potential demise of the human race."

The situation had not quite slipped from his grasp, but Shiro was undoubtedly at a loss. That his coming had been anticipated was curious. That the seer believed him to be some escort for an epic quest was baffling. That they were both beset upon by the deities to stall the fall of the Gods and mankind alike was...unsettling. There were two great sources of power at work here with two very different narratives that they were supposedly to follow. 

Shiro growled, despising the sensation of being a pawn in someone else's game. "I know not of your Gods, but I do know why mine have sent me here. I will kill you, seer, and save our people and the Gods of Asgard from the fall of Twilight."

The seer sighed. "Yes, I was told you would say something much like that."

"Prepare yourself for death."

"I was told you would attempt that as well. I would suggest you lower that clawed hand of yours, wolf, seeing as I have the whiphand over you."

The flash of a dark memory went off inside of Shiro's head, seeing the rise of a thick, studded whip, hearing the thunderous crack, feeling the sting as flesh and muscle tore from the savage beating. An enraged roar tore from his throat and he lunged, talons fanned, prepared to strike at the heart and tear it out in a single swift movement. 

He never made contact. 

The reaction was instantaneous; less than a foot from planting his weapon in the seer's heart, he was knocked off his feet and thrown across the room. A great gust of wind threw him easily, shrieking in its intensity. He crashed to the ground heavily, breath rushing from his chest as he struck the slabs of stone floor. For several agonizing seconds he fought to recover his wind, struggling against paralyzed lungs and shaking limbs to sit up. 

When he managed to crawl to his knees, Shiro stared at the seer, gasping for air, eyes red rimmed and fixated.

The seer stared back, face slack. "Please do not do that again. I am protected by the Gods; anything you attempt will be thrown back at you."

A living mirror, Shiro realized. His task was infinitely more difficult, his prey apparently untouchable. 

"I--" he broke into a fit of coughing before climbing to his feet. "I will not be deterred from my path. I will have your head for Odin's glory or I will die in the attempt."

The seer approached, patient and poised as ever. "That will not do, wolf. You and I are tasked to see this through to the end, side by side. You cannot die, nor can you kill me. I will accept your ire, even your resentment, but you will escort me."

"Will I?" he growled.

The man nodded, mouth quirking in a grin. "As I said, I have the whiphand over you."

The man gave a sharp call, like a wolf howling for its pack. On cue, the massive hof doors swung open and two lines of armored men entered. They did not concern Shiro; he had faced more foes in his warrior days. The seer was what concerned him most, with his easy power that could fell a man before he even landed a blow. It was not until he heard Mateus' shrill cries and a litany of curses in Pigeon's voice that Shiro's focus shifted.

Whipping around, Shiro watched as his men were marched into the center of the hof and forced to their knees, axes and lances held to the bases of their skulls. The threat was clear. 

"So then, wolf,"

Shiro turned to glower at the seer, who returned the expression passively.

"Do we have an understanding?"

"An understanding?"

"You will escort me as my ally, or you and your men will be slain."

Forfeit the allfather's mission or be the cause for the slaughter of all of his men. As if it were truly a choice. His piety was weak and although he would risk his own hide, Shiro's honor would not allow him to sacrifice the others. He scowled fiercely at the seer, lowering his gauntlet and curling the talons into his palm. This errand would be daunting, he could tell already. This seer was not just a creature of great magical talent, he was a shrew of savage sorts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terse bargaining and some unexpected cameos. Bloodlines begin to come into play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing of use to say lol

A steaming mug of tea was placed before him. Shiro assumed it was tea; it could just as easily have been poison. Not knowing the herbs contained within or who the preparer was, it seemed best to avoid the drink. He turned his face away with a soft growl, taking in his new surroundings. With his crew dragged away and thrown into a cold prison, he had graciously been offered a drink at the seer's table in his personal chambers in the hof. Shiro felt anything but grateful, with his legs and chest bound to the massive chair he sat in. 

He had been impressed upon by a rather stern faced guard to mind his temper. Should he think of attacking again, he was told that there would be a contingent of soldiers ready to burst into the room and skewer him. He took the threat at face value. Like the densest of fools, he had walked unwittingly into a den of bears. Perhaps the Allfather had something to fear after all. 

His steel eyes flicked to the seer, seated across from him, face placid and calm. The young man's ever passive expression was beginning to unnerve him. 

"Do you never smile?" he barked, desperate to fill the tense silence.

A vague expression of surprise crossed the seer's features. "Do I have a reason to smile?"

"I Should think so."

The young man hummed, shrugging his shoulders delicately. "That is a matter of opinion. Will you not drink?"

"No." Shiro growled. "I will not."

"So be it."

It was the strangest meeting of minds that Shiro had partaken in. The seer was no idiot; he knew that he held the upper hand and yet the young man looked pensive, unhappy even. Shiro did not dare to think that the seer had been surprised by his actions. Inconvenienced was likely a better term. Why though? The question stumped the man. The seer could not have expected him to easily abandon his mission and agree to accompany him on the quest he intended to embark upon. 

...or had he?

Curiosity got the better of him. After a lengthy stretch of silence, Shiro cleared his throat gruffly. "What, pray tell, did your gods show you in your visions?"

The young man pursued his lips, as if debating whether to reveal the truth or not. He surprised Shiro by offering,

"They told me to expect you."

"You said as much before. What else did they say?"

"That you would not easily bend."

The seer's stilted answers were gnawing at the last straw of patience Shiro possessed. "What did they say about this supposed quest you were to undertake?"

"Ah." The young man clicked his tongue, as if a great mystery had been solved. "I suppose our purposes would be different, what with you sent here to kill me. Then again...perhaps our end goals are not so different as we think. Tell me first, before I divulge my secrets to you: why were you commanded to kill me?"

This magic wielder had the heart of a warrior; Shiro tried not to be impressed by the blase way the young man spoke of his attempted assassination. Warrior at heart or no, the seer was still manipulating him, wringing him for all the information he possessed. Should he tell all and appease the young man, risking losing his usefulness? Shiro stomped the idea from his head; he was still struggling to decipher what his worth to these people was. 

"Why do you want me to be your guide?" Shiro countered with a question of his own.

The corner of the seer's mouth quirked. "Answer my question first and I will answer yours."

"How do I know you will not simply take my answer and give me nothing in return?"

"You don't know, so I suppose you'll just have to take the gamble."

So it seemed he would. It was a game and Shiro was growing tired of it already. 

"I do not know the whys and wherefores of my masters' minds. I was called to action by the Allfather and told to seek you out and take your head." There was a slight bit more to it than that, but nothing that he was yet willing to give up. He had to maintain some of his secrets. 

The seer scoffed, violet eyes narrowing. "You either lie to me or you're a great fool, willing to take a life for what could just as easily been indigestion caused by some foul meat."

Shiro bared his teeth in a growl. "You call me a fool?"

"Mayhaps. Or do you take me for one? I would appreciate the truth, wolf. Tell me, and be honest and frank: why did your gods send you to kill me?"

He lost his temper. While he cursed and spat insult and threat alike, the seer sat across from him, mouth turned into a dark frown, expression curdling from blank passivity to irritation. The young man's fingers began to curl in the thick fabric of his robes, tendons standing in tension. The longer he sat in silence, the more Shiro snapped, spitting venom like a beast. 

"Enough!" The seer leaped to his feet, throwing a hand out at him.

All at once, Shiro felt his mouth clamp shut, cutting off his litany of curses as if a hand had grabbed him by the jaw and shoved. He stared, swallowing the acid he still had bubbling on his tongue. It seems he had found the seer's breaking point. The young man leered, stepping closer and leaning on the arms of his chair. So close, Shiro could see the embers burning in the young man's unusual eyes.

"Do not tempt me into using my magics on you, wolf." The seer's teeth flashed in a beast like snarl. "I may need an escort to guide me on my quest, but if you continue to irk me, I can just as easily kill you, slaughter your men, and feed your carcasses to the cattle. Do not think you are indispensable and do not test me."

There was little for Shiro to do, save stare in open hostility. He would not condescend to nod in acquiescence, as if he were an obedient dog. The threat was understood; they both knew as much. 

The moment passed, the seer regaining composure and sitting once more, tucking his hands delicately into the folds of his robe. Surely this young man was one of noble rank, Shiro thought. Only one of great social standing could possess such a temper and be tolerated by those around them. 

"Do please try to be somewhat agreeable," the young man sighed, "we are going to be in one another's company for a good while. It would be best were we friends."

"Friends?" Shiro snorted. "I was unaware friends threatened and manipulated one another."

"Allies then." He waved his hand dismissively.

Shiro considered. He had very little bargaining room. Were he being honest, which he knew he had to be, losing his temper would do him no good and would in fact cost him more. Too many lives were at stake for him to continue his bullheaded campaign against the injustice done unto him. Unwilling allies they would have to be.

"My quest," he began haltingly, dragging each word out, as it pained him to bow to one such as the light limbed seer, "is to see that the Twilight of the Gods does not came to pass. Already the signs of the coming war have reached Midgard."

The seer considered his answer carefully. "And what has that to do with me?"

"I know not. All that was told to me, and all that I needed to be told by the Allfather, was that you will be the downfall of Asgard. That, I cannot allow."

Shiro waited for a response, expecting surprise, shock, perhaps even anger. Instead, the young man stared at him with his maddeningly blank expression, eyes occasionally flicking away as his thoughts flitted from one place to another. He was taking a death sentence handed down by the gods rather well. Too well. Shiro's suspicions were aroused once more.

The seer shot to his feet, robes swishing about him in a flourish as he strode to the chamber door and threw it open. The guards who had been standing at attention, ever at the seer's beck and call, flooded into the room on his heels. A hand was waved flippantly in Shiro's direction and a score of men reached for him.

"Take him to the cells, with the rest of his men. It is as I thought; doomsday is upon us and the gods are on the move."

Shiro tried valiantly to dislodge the men from his arms, hauling him to his feet and dragging him from the room. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he watched as the seer shed his robes, scarlet velvet pooling around his feet. As he had expected, his questions had gone unanswered. There was a great deal of information being withheld from him and he desperately wished to know what the seer knew. Clever little thing. 

As an afterthought, he noted that the pict markings that had marred the young man's otherwise pale face serpentined from cheek to neck, to shoulder, to back. The visual burned in his memory. Perhaps they were more than the markings of the pict peoples. Perhaps he was not the only one that had been touched by the gods. Were that so, his quest would be far more interesting than he originally bargained for, to say nothing of the added danger. 

=====

The cell door slammed shut on his back, a rough hand shoving him into the arms of his waiting men. Mateus caught his arm as he stumbled forward, turning to scowl at the soldiers even as Pigeon flew forward and began shrieking curses at them and demanding freedom. Her protestations were met with nothing more than a chortle of amusement. 

They were left alone then, provided no more comfort than a single guttering torch upon a wall, which gave off only a sliver of light. Shiro cast a look about, taking in the solid walls of stone and the iron bars of the door. 

"Impressive."

Mateus folded his arms over his chest, a petulant scowl upon his face. "How can you say such a thing? We're prisoners, Shiro!"

A sad truth, but not a role that he was unfamiliar with. He had spent years traveling along the transcontinental trade route as a prisoner. At least this time the imprisonment would be short. Or so he was being led to believe. For good measure though, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the massive bars of the door. Even with his gauntlet, they did not budge.

"We are in no danger at present." Shiro said calmly, maintaining his hold upon the bar.

His men stared at him, uncertain. When Mateus voiced their collective question of why he believed such a thing, Shiro sighed. Stepping away from the cell door, he waded through the crowd of bodies to the single bed of straw and sat. 

"This seer is wise and well informed." he said at length, running the edge of a talon against his lips. "He expected me. It seems he has use for me. So long as I have use for him, he will not harm you."

Pigeon stepped towards him. "You believe that?"

Shiro knew how foolish he sounded. "I do. He had ample opportunity to kill the lot of us. Instead, he spent his time trying to ally himself and our causes."

A dozen more questions were thrown at him, asked in eager, frightened tones. He was in no mood to answer and hushed them with a wave of his gauntlet. Truth told, Shiro was as curious and uncertain as they. His answers were few and vague. Best to let them think he knew more than he truthfully did and let them rest believing he knew the minds of their captors. If he said they would be safe, his men would believe so.

He leaned his head against the cool stone of the wall and shut his eyes. He thought they were safe. Replaying his meeting with the seer over and over provided him with very few details of the supposed quest they were meant to undertake. Why it was he who was meant to guide the seer and just who told the seer so, Shiro could not guess. He chastised himself for losing his temper. Had he been even a slight bit more agreeable, he might have had more answers than questions.

Tomorrow he would bend to the need for civility. If not for his own sake, then for the sake of his men. When he knew exactly what use he was to be put to, then he could decide if he would play along with the seer's delusions or try his hand once more at assassination.

=====

The splinter moon was just beginning its evening descent when the back door of the hof squeaked open. A sliver of pale light illuminated the thin blanket of snow on the ground. The young seer emerged, feet bare, in nothing more than a thin linen shift, a candle in one hand. His sharp eyes scanned the woodline, searching. It took only a moment for his gaze to land on the massive black form lurking in the brush.

The young man squared his shoulders. "He will accompany me. We will begin our quest shortly." He paused, feeling the heavy weight of eyes upon him. "I can take care of myself. Tell the others that they are in good hands. I will not fail you."

The door shut firmly. When he was certain that the night was quiet, the hof protected in its solitude, the great wolf rose to his haunches, shaking off the dusting of snow on his coat. A great, timbering howl shattered the night and the beast shot off, darting between narrow trees and over jagged rocks. 

Land gave way to sky beneath his feet, treetops and ocean waves blurring, stars twinkling as he spiraled from one realm to the next, landing upon the snowy mountains of Asgard's barren lands with a great crash, shaking the mountain whole and leaving a great crater in his wake. 

A vicious wind howled in his ears, cutting through layers of fur and biting deep into his bones. The queen was unhappy. Lifting onto his hind legs, he brayed into the desolate night, his lonely cry bouncing through the darkness. A moment passed. The winds grew tame until they were little more than a gentle whisper, playing through his fur, and then they ceased all together. 

Padding slowly through the frozen tundra, he sniffed the air, easily finding the tendril of sweet scent that would lead him to his mate. When he arrived at the hut, artfully hidden within a crevice of the mountainside, the door swung open in expectation. It was a tight fit, easing his hulking body through the human-sized door, but he managed. Shaking his fur of snow a final time, he stepped deeper into the little hovel, drawn towards the hearth burning at the back of the home.

A fire was crackling merrily, fed by several great tree bolts that appeared downed by giants. He sniffed at a pot sitting near the flames, the potent herbs of tea--or witches brew--filling his nostrils. A soft chuckle rose from the shadows. He swung his great head, finding a slender silhouette bundled in a mass of furs. His ears pricked forward. 

Wrapped in a cocoon of fine pelts--pelts of great beasts he had hunted for his love, Leidolf thought fondly--sat his lovely queen. Her violet eyes crinkled in joy, seeing his scarred muzzle. 

"Leidolf. I assume you have news."

The woman stuck a tawny hand out and he eagerly moved forward to lick it. She laughed again, using her free hand to scratch his ears. 

"Come now, love. What news from Midgard? What of our son?"

The wolf sighed, pulling from her hands and laying upon the floor. His great golden eyes traced the violet markings of her face, knowing intimately the trail they left on the goddess' body. It made his heart ache in unexpected ways, seeing the same beauteous markings upon his son.

"It is as Freya prophetized." he murmured in a low, rumbling voice. "The foreigner has come, wielding Odin's gauntlet."

The woman sat forward anxiously. "Our son was prepared though."

"Of course. He has been provided ample enough warnings. He takes heed of his visions."

As if she had any doubt of it; he was an obedient pup, a child to be proud of. With a soft exhalation of breath, she sat back in her furs and considered. For once in her great life, she had hoped that the lady Freya's visions were wrong. They all dreaded Ragnorak, but Krolia felt the greatest fear, knowing that Odin himself sought to take her child's head. Alas, even great Freya could not sway the mind of a paranoid man. Odin had his truth, Freya had hers. 

"It will be trying, thwarting Odin's attempts." Her gaze flicked to Leidolf, watching her carefully in the firelight. "You ought to be careful as well, love. No descendant of Loki is safe in these dire days."

The wolf snorted. "I am well aware, my queen. All the more reason for me to remain on Midgard and haunt the boy's steps. I trust that foreigner as much as I trust Odin, which is none."

"The foreigner at least can be persuaded of our son's good nature. Lady Freya placed her trust in the foreigner. We must have faith in that."

Leidolf said nothing. Faith was something humans held, not the gods. Perhaps, had he not had intimate knowledge of Odin and the other Asgardian roughians, he might find it within himself to place more faith, as his queen called it, in others. Faith and hope were not currencies dealt in Asgard though. A man with a hope was a fool, a man with faith, a sucker. 

No, if the Allfather had decreed that all descendants of Loki were the root of evil and to be cast into the fires of Hel, the peons of Asgard would follow his command blindly. He could have no faith that any of those brainless sheep might actually look upon his son and see him for the man he was and grant mercy. 

He had been wrong in his prior assessment, Leidolf realized. He preferred the foreigner over any of the gods or monsters of Asgard. At least a fellow mortal would know that there was far more to a person than the blood in their veins and the surface of their skin. Even so, the foreigner had been sent by Odin, the Allfather's twisted visions poisoning his thoughts. Stupidity was also a trait shared by the humans. 

Until he was certain of the foreigner's intentions, Leidolf would watch. He had no time to dawdle then, much as he craved time with his mate. Heaving a great sigh, he rose to his feet, pressing his muzzle against the lady's thigh. He was rewarded with a soothing kiss and sweet words mumbled into his ears before the door swept upon on a current of wind. 

The winds and snow of Midgard were nothing to the frenzied storms of Asgard. Though the winds cracked and a vicious blizzard blew, Leidolf found comfort in the solidarity of a rock outcropping beneath a sturdy canopy of evergreens. In the distance, he could see the prayer fires of the hof whipping wildly through the winds, valiantly staying lit despite the battery. 

He howled gently into the night, drowning the wild wind beneath his soulful cry. Somewhere inside the hof, he knew his son was sleeping, safe beneath his protective gaze. He intended on keeping it that way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so, the quest begins. 
> 
> Bargains are made, new friends made, but to what end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, our dear seer's name is still pronounced as 'Keith'

Morning came with the rattle of the barred cell door and a hard jab of the butt of a pike. Shiro growled softly, peeling open an eye to look at the offender. Standing a pace away was one of the local soldiers, sneering in open contempt at him. His crew were held at bay by a bevy of guards brandishing more pikes.

"The seer would have words with you." the soldier barked.

Shiro inclined his head. "I wagered he might."

The man reached for him, but he swatted the hand away. There was no getting around this meeting, but Shiro would be damned if he would be dragged to the hof like a dog on a lead. He had two perfectly capable legs he could use. At his back, he heard the door slam shut after him and a number of indignant cries and threats from his loyal men. It was misplaced concern, he thought. Their heads would have rolled by then, had the seer or village leaders wanted them dead. They had a purpose and Shiro was intent on maintaining a poised countenance this meeting so he might discern what that purpose might be.

=====

Walking through the village in daylight was a vastly different experience than sneaking about in the shadows of evening. With the bright sun shining upon them, he could see the wealth of people, the expanse of verdant fields, the ample cattle and livestock herded to and from pasture to pen. They were a lively lot. Regardless, Shiro thought that, under different circumstances, he could easily pillage the hamlet.

He was led through the backdoor of the hof and into the seer's personal chambers. Shiro raised a brow to one of his guards, finding it rather odd to be led around back like some sort of sordid visitor. His questioning glance was ignored. 

"Ah, wolf. In a better mood today, I see."

Shiro lifted his gaze to the seer, standing before a private alter to his heathen gods. A pungent grey smoke spiraled from a silver dish and beside it a small bundle of herbs. Tiny carved figures were scattered across the alter top, some appearing human like, others of more demonic origin. A larger wolf figure stood near a chalice, not party to whatever tableau the other figurines were displaying. 

The seer laid a hand on the broad shoulder of an elderly guard that stood a head or two taller than he, dismissing the man. A warning look was shot towards Shiro before the man departed without a word. The men who had guided him to the hof forced him into a chair before they too were dismissed.

Across the room, the seer stared at him, face as passive as ever.

"No binds this time?" Shiro asked as pleasantly as he could muster.

He was answered with a laugh and a goblet of watered wine shoved at him. "Drink. You'll need your head about you. We have much to discuss."

Shiro was not so proud to turn down food; he continued to believe that, had the seer wanted him dead, he would be in the ground already. A platter of warm, soft bread and cheese quickly followed and the pit of gnawing hunger in his belly began to fill. As he ate, Shiro's eyes followed the seer, cataloging the way he moved, the stretch of the pict marks across his face and the back of his neck, the items he touched. There was a hint of impatience in the young man's pace; his hands flew from one surface of the room to the next, as if eager to preoccupy themselves, but forcing themselves not to get distracted.

With his plate cleared, Shiro found he had the will--and the level headedness--needed for political banter.

He chose to begin with a neutral, welcoming statement. "I was told you wished to speak."

"Are you of a mind to do so now, or would you rather threaten me more?"

Shiro snorted. "Given the precarious situation I find myself in and your intriguing behavior, I would say it is time you and I spoke."

He had sounded convincing enough; the seer took the seat across from him, hands tucked in his lap primly. For a moment their gazes caught and fire met ice. The seer's eyes were alluring and Shiro felt the flames of that heavy gaze licking over his skin, but he would not melt. He was as cold and solid as rock. 

And then, a question he had not expected.

"What is your name?"

Shiro considered silence; names were given during civil discussions by equal partners, not during interrogations. Then again....perhaps the query was a subtle sign by this strange creature.

"My name is Shiro, the blessed."

Mirth lit momentarily in the seer's eyes. "Shiro the blessed? Not a name I would have immediately connected with yourself, wolf."

"You are not the only one to think so, I am certain. Why do you continue to call me 'wolf'?"

"You remind me of a wolf."

The resemblance alluded him. "And your name, then? Unless you would prefer that I call you 'seer'."

"No indeed, unless you would like me to refer to you as barbarian in turn. My name is Kaeyth."

And there they were, equals, using one another's names. It seemed far too easy. Shiro's suspicions had been aroused since they had arrived on the unusual island, but they were on further alert that moment. He would soon come upon the reason for his commuted sentence of death. 

Kaeyth wasted no time speaking; he had waited a month for the foreigner to arrive and another night for the man's temper to cool enough to allow them this moment of tempered discussion. 

"You and I have the same goal, wolf. You have come here because you believe killing me will stop the fall of the gods. I do not know where your information comes from or who led you to believe such a thing, but I am not the cause of the coming twilight. On the contrary, I have also been sent visions directing me to take to the seas and stop the coming darkness."

A long silence hung between them. Shiro rubbed at the stubble on his chin, considering carefully. Could he trust the seer? He sensed no glib in the young man's words, but what of the visions he claimed to have? Shiro knew, without a doubt, that his own visions had been sent by the Allfather. 

"How can you trust your visions?" he asked carefully, mindful not to sound accusing.

"My visions have never been incorrect before." Came the quick answer, no hint of insult. 

Shiro was still unconvinced. 

"How can I be certain of that?"

"They foretold your coming, did they not?"

So it would seem, Shiro admitted begrudgingly. Even so, he remained wary. "Where do your visions come from?"

A tired sigh escaped the seer's mouth. Kaeyth reminded himself to be patient; he had known this round of questioning was coming. Even when the extent of his powers had been displayed, many still questioned where such gifts came from. Honestly though, if he had been charmed by a demon from the nether realms and sent to wreak havoc on mortals, he would have put his skills to better use than crowing crops and foretelling the future. Very few others thought likewise though.

"My visions come from the Great Mother." he said gently. "It is she who grants me the power to see into the future."

"I know nothing of your gods and cannot speak as to whether or not I trust this Great Mother."

"All the same, we can agree that we have a similar quest, can we not?"

Shiro was hesitant to agree. "A similar end goal, perhaps. My quest was to come here and kill you. How exactly did your visions instruct you to stop the fall of the gods?"

Kaeyth's eyes darted towards his feet. He had hoped not to delve too far into the intricacies of his powers and divine visions. It was difficult to explain it to himself at times; it would be a chore to explain it to one who shared no history with him or his people. Regardless, he needed to try. He needed to win the warrior's trust; he needed _him_.

"I need to find someone." the seer said quietly. "I believe this is where you come into play. The Great Mother has told me to find the trickster god. Shortly thereafter, she gifted me with a vision of you and foretold that it was you who would accompany me on my quest." he dared a look at the warrior's face. "I do not know of a trickster god, but I am led to believe that you do. Do you?"

A sour look marred the warrior's face; the answer was evident. 

For another long moment Shiro was silent, carefully picking apart everything the seer had said and dissecting it for truth and hidden meaning. He was faced with a rather embarrassing and unpleasant conundrum. There were no overt signs of deception in the seer's words; indeed, the seer had been pointedly ushering him to accompany him on this quest nearly the moment they met. He had many questions...but against all reason, he found himself being drawn to the mystery of their frighteningly similar goal.

Shiro drummed the claws of his gauntlet against the armrest pensively. "Yes...my people have a trickster god."

A smile leaped to Kaeyth's face. "Then he is the one I am to find."

"You speak wiser than you know; Loki is the one responsible for Ragnorak. It is he who will cause the gods to fall."

"And if it is your quest to stop the fall, then it is your quest to find him as well. Will you agree now to accompany me?"

He could not argue with logic such as that, Shiro thought. He had been sent to murder the seer, and instead he had found a curious gem of information. How could one so far from his own people know of their gods and their impending fall? This little seer knew too much for the matter to be coincidental. And yet, he was wary of disobeying Odin's command. The Allfather had been clear; the seer was to die. 

He glanced to his gauntlet, reading the inscribed runes. Dare he test Odin's wrath, should he fail his mission?

Kaeyth held his breath, allowing the man time to consider his request. He had given little more than a rushed explanation of how they had met at this particular crossroads. He prayed it would be enough to convince the warrior. There would be time for further lengthy discussion, once their quest was underway. His visions had left him without a doubt that he needed Shiro to save the gods. It was a request that therefore demanded careful consideration.

At length, Shiro's gaze flicked to his face once more. The man's mouth was taut, eyes hard. Kaeyth's face fell, reading the answer in the lines of the man's face.

"I will accompany you." Shiro said gruffly. "But we must have a plan. We are meddling with gods now; we cannot simply board a boat and see where whimsy takes us."

A great sigh of relief escaped the seer's chest. For many long moments, he had been unsure that he could win the man's trust or convince him of the need for partnership. In their limited interaction, he could see that the wolf was not one to bow easily. It would have been disastrous, to be left without the warriors aid. By the grace of the gods though, the wolf had agreed to accompany him. He made a religious sign over his chest. 

Leaning forward, Kaeyth extended his hand. "You are very wise, wolf. Let us begin then."

As he leaned forward and grasped the young seer's arm in a firm grip, sealing their contract, Shiro could not help the knotting in his gut. By allowing the seer to live, he was refusing Odin's orders. Although he was dedicated to stopping Loki before he could bring about Ragnorak, he knew that forsaking the Allfather's demands put him in danger now of not just the diabolical children of Loki, but of the Asgardian gods as well. They would need to work fast; until Loki was brought under heel, he was a traitor to the gods and his life was forfeit.

======

The accommodations were no better, to Shiro's annoyance, but the niceties afforded them were undeniably those of guests and not prisoners. 

"You understand." Kaeyth had said plainly as the guards came to escort Shiro back to the cells.

Shiro did understand. Were he in the seer's place, he would have sent an outsider back to the prison rather than let them wander free. Even so, he was not happy about the fact and replied with a dark glower.

No few questions were demanded of him when he was settled back in the cell. The answers he could give were vague, sometimes barely answer at all. Patience, he told his devoted crew. The tides had turned and his quest was now to take him in another direction. What that direction was, he and the seer had yet to decide. The coming days would be of interest as they cobbled together the little they each knew and tried to form a whole. 

His men were not pleased, caged as they were. When a grand buffet of dishes arrived that evening, a feast capable of feeding their dozen members twice over, the grumbling temporarily subsided. As the plates were set down and stacks of blankets and furs handed out, Pigeon cast a suspicious glance his way.

"You two must have gotten along very well."

Shiro chose to ignore the insinuation. He grabbed for the platter with the best cut of meat. "Better than predator and prey should. You had best acclimate yourself to the fact that he will be about; when we depart next he will be joining us."

A barrage of questions was hurdled his way. Shiro silenced them, offering naught but a staying warning that he would tell them all when he had a mind to. At his side, Mateus looked perturbed, though the young man had the decency not to call his bluff. Mateus knew that, lurking beneath the veneer of his strong words, what Shiro truly meant was that when _he_ knew what the path ahead of them was, he would divulge all. They shared a knowing look and Mateus quickly ducked his head.

"We will remain here another fortnight, perhaps less." he offered to sate their gnawing curiosity. "Once the seer and I have come to an agreement, we will take to the sea. That is all I am at liberty to tell you as of yet. Trust in me, my comrades. I will see you all safe."

No further questions were asked. Loyal as they were, his men continued to entrust him with their lives. As the severity of the coming journey began to sink in, Shiro found himself worrying over if he could continue to maintain his promise. 

=====

A bank of thick fog rolled in with the break sky, a gray morning lost amid the mist. Flakes of white had begun falling sometime before the dawn and a soft blanket of snow left the forest glistening like a mystical realm. Shiro regarded the weather with a stiff grunt, checking the ship moorings for blocks of ice which might hinder the ship or destroy their ropes. 

A thorough sweep of the barge assuaged his fears, though he noted that their food stores had been ravaged by foraging beasts. New stores would be brought, the seer had assured him the previous evening, but Shiro was mildly curious to see what types of foods the pict might bring with him. With some fortune, they might share similar diets. If not...he would make plans to pause and barter at the nearest settlement.

"What are we waiting for?" Mateus asked, eyeing the horizon. 

Shiro looked not to the sea, but the hill from whence they had come. In the distance he could see the bobbing of a torch ascending the path. "We await our escort."

"Escort?" Pigeon echoed, clutching her fur lined cloak about her shoulders. 

The eyes of the crew turned towards the hill, their unhappy murmurs stilling to silence as a progression appeared from the fog, like a party of spirits morphing from the ether. At the head of the procession was the seer, dressed in a thick scarlet tunic and bedecked in furs worthy of a prince. 

The young man paused a pace away. "Wolf. Shiro."

Shiro nodded softly. "Kaeyth."

The seer, waved a hand delicately towards the ship. Man after man came forward, carrying crates and sacks of what he hoped were food stores. There would be other necessary supplies, as had been discussed. Shiro was curious to see how well the seer kept his end of their bargain; from the look of things, Kaeyth had brought every supply they had detailed and more. 

His gaze moved from the men loading the ship towards the towering giant that never seemed to be far from the seer's side. The graying, grizzled man eyed him coldly. Shiro dropped his gaze to the broadsword and shield at the man's side.

"Shall he be accompanying you?"

Kaeyth glanced over his shoulder, following the Shiro's gaze. "Yes. Naturally, I will need one of my own to serve as escort. For my own safety."

"Of course."

"Do not fear. Kolivan is a man of few words and will only trouble himself with my needs. You will hardly notice him."

That, Shiro doubted. From the man's stony expression and the way his hand settled naturally on the hilt of his blade, Shiro surmised that he was in the presence of a man who took his job as protectorate more than just a tad seriously. Perhaps the giant was a relative of sorts. Should the need arise to end the seer's life after all, the hulking man would prove a distinct obstacle.

A tense silence fell over the shore. The boat creaked. Box after box slammed onto the deck. Slowly, the village men filtered away, pausing at the base of the hill to watch their seer depart. 

There was no reason to dally. With a bark, Shiro ordered his men aboard and to their places. Hefting himself over the side, he looked to the seer, taking delicate steps towards the prow. Not for the first time, Shiro wondered how this small, seemingly delicate being would survive a harsh voyage. 

He extended his hand, which was gratefully accepted. A firm tug and the seer was aboard, feet floundering for purchase on the slick deck. Shiro struggled to keep his expression neutral as the young man pressed against him clumsily. The seer's protectorate was glowering at him already, climbing over the prow and reaching a great hand out to steady Kaeyth. Many of his crew chortled at the ungainly display.

"Enough." Shiro snapped, striding away from the seer, doing his best to put the young man from his mind. "Mateus, Arvid, Oman; hoist the sails. Pigeon, get to the stern and have your eyes ready."

The crew flew to action, scattering to their given posts. Pigeon darted past the seer, eyeing him suspiciously. In her hands, she clutched the compass and star charts. 

"Where are we turning towards?" she asked, laying her maps free. 

Shiro came to stand beside her, clawed finger dropping to a blackened spot on the map. "Here. We head to the dark lands."

A sudden murmur of apprehension filled the ship. Men paused abruptly in their tasks. Shiro had expected the reaction; dangerous and cruel raiders that they were, they were also embarrassingly superstitious. Fear sprang into the eyes of the most hardened of his men. The tales of the dark lands were well known by all. It was not a place that even their fearsome lot would go. 

Shiro growled, scanning the faces of each man and finding only the seer and his protectorate unmoved by the danger. 

"I said hoist sail!"

There was a brief moment of hesitation before the crew returned to work, albeit with far less vigor than before. Shiro scowled. Were he to be battling the fears of a superstitious crew on top of gods, monsters, and a potentially deadly seer, Shiro knew that it was he who was instore for the most difficult voyage and no other.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith unleashes a surprise that Shiro was not ready for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was supposed to get this up on Wednesday, but holy crap this week has been busy!

"Fenrir rides tonight."

Shiro turned his head, finding a familiar shadow that seemed to haunt his steps those days. He grunted, turning his gaze back to the stars. The seer drifted closer, pausing at his side and leaning heavily against the side of the ship. After a moment of searching Shiro's face for some thought, the young man's eyes turned to the sky as well, the eerie violet embers appearing to burn still, even in the darkness of night. 

_Witch_ , Shiro thought, fighting to hide his scowl of distaste. 

The seer chuckled, as if sensing his unease. Theirs had been a tumultuous relationship from the beginning and being forced into close proximity aboard the vessel had done little to improve the tense bond. It bothered the seer little, which infuriated Shiro. The young man was not stupid, and yet he sat calmly amid those who should be his enemies. No word or deed slipped past Kaeyth's notice and yet Shiro could not say he had seen a single sign of distress from the seer. There had not even been a twitch of a frown when the crew took to whispering and muttering threats in his general direction. Nothing appeared to move him. 

For a long moment the two were silent, staring at the spiraling starscape and dazzling display of lights playing before them. A flash of violet light pierced undulating hues of green and pink, writhing violently like a serpent in the sky. The colors had grown more vibrant in their days at sea, seeming to grow stronger the closer they came to the dark lands. Each night fell, darker and more consuming than the last, filled then by the blinding beauty of the ethereal lights. Had he not known just what those lights heralded, Shiro would find the display dazzlingly enrapturing. Alas, he knew. Fenrir was riding the skies. 

"If you have questions," the seer began quietly after a considerable pause, a hint of amusement in his tone, "you need only ask. I will answer you honestly."

It seemed too good an offer to be true, but he had little to lose, save face. Shiro took a deep breath, fighting back his pride. He turned to the young man, catching glimpse of the violet embers of his eyes. It was alluring, despite--or perhaps because of--the danger this beautiful creature possessed.

"You spoke of Fenrir. How do you know of him?"

Kaeyth tilted his head, catching the barbarian's gaze. "Fenrir? I am quite well versed in your people's gods, wolf."

"How? And why?"

"Do you find it surprising? You knew of my people and their habits. Is it so hard for you to believe that some of us know of your own practices? Your people are not exactly subtle, might I remind you. Raiders have been up and down our coasts for years."

A true enough fact, Shiro had to admit. He was far from the first man to set foot on the verdant shores of the lands west to his own. It seemed only a few short years ago that he was sitting by the longhouse fire among his brethren, listening with the wonder of a child as the returning raiders shared stories of the great cities and strange peoples they had met on their journeys. Some had gone east, to far away lands where Shiro's own people hailed from. Others went south and still others west, to the island countries nearby. Were he to put his mind to the task, Shiro was certain he might be able to conjure some stories of the pict gods and their worship.

A stern frown twitched at the corners of Shiro's mouth and he turned back to the stars.

"I am especially keen on the subject of the gods." Kaeyth continued, following the warrior's gaze to a particularly bright cluster of stars. "I know the stories and the godly pantheons of many peoples. Yours is only one of many that I know."

"You sound proud of that." Shiro said stiffly.

The seer shrugged. "There are many ways to view the world, I simply know more than the rest. It is a skill that has served me well."

A brief silence passed between them as Shiro pondered the unusual words. He had never met one so wise and yet so odd as this seer. His distrust was ignited once more and he shot the young man a scrutinizing glance.

"You said Fenrir rides. Do _you_ believe in Fenrir?"

"Believe." Kaeyth echoed, amused by the question. "I suppose it is my position to believe. It would be a bit blasphemous for a religious figurehead not to heed the gods."

"But they are not your gods."

"Only in name, wolf. What your people call one thing, my people call another. It does not change the identity of the being, just the name. So to answer your question, yes, I believe in the great wolf."

The more he learned, the more uncertain Shiro grew. He frowned for a moment, unsure how to take the young man's words. It was difficult for him to reconcile this strange looking creature with his own beliefs. And yet, he knew better than most that even with great distances between lands, many of the stories of the gods stretched over vast seas and great mountain ranges. The gods ruled the world and had their followers in every land. The names, as the boy said, did not matter.

They worshiped the same gods, that made their dubious bond somewhat stronger. If the seer believed in the coming fall and the gods who pulled the strings of the universe, than he could at least hope that Kaeyth held sincere interest in seeing that Loki and his vile brood did not triumph. Thus far, Shiro had to admit that the young man appeared true in his efforts. Even so, he would remain cautious and vigilant.

He ignored the weight of the seer's gaze as Kaeyth turned his head slightly to examine his face. Knowing he was being studied, Shiro had the oddest desire to run his fingers through the stubble upon his chin. His scalp itched suddenly. He was not used to such scrutiny; he found it distracting. A sharp clearing of his throat made his discomfort clear and the seer turned away at last, chortling softly. Shiro failed to see what could be so amusing. 

"You will overcome your doubt soon enough." Kaeyth said ominously, laying a hand to the man's forearm. 

The hair on Shiro's arms stood on end suddenly, a tremor of surprise coursing through him. He turned sharply, staring at Kaeyth who stood with mouth partly open, lids drooping as his violet eyes rolled into the back of his skull. A trill of alarm rendered Shiro dumb for a heartbeat. The moment passed quickly. A blink and Kaeyth's eyes were back in place, deep, alluring, and burning. A coy smile played on the young man's pale lips, as if he had just discovered an amusing secret that he would not share. 

Before he could ask what had happened, Kaeyth turned away and raised his hood. It was best to let the incident pass, Shiro advised himself. He truly did not want to know what had just transpired, what type of strange, exotic magics the seer possessed and had flickered briefly between them.

He had almost successfully convinced himself that it was no matter to be concerned over when Kaeyth's quiet voice drifted to him in parting,

"Sleep well, Takashi."

=====

Takashi.

It had been years since he had heard his true name. Last it was spoken, he had been a mere boy, fleeing a burning village and with no hope of a future as he threw himself into the wilds. Many a night, as he lay awake, haunted by his memories of the past, Shiro thought it would have been better, had he perished in the flames with his family or been ravished by beasts in the forest. Alas, it was a man who found him, no wild wolf or mountain lion. That man turned out to be more beast-like than any animal that could have discovered him.

Shiro closed his eyes against a wash of foul memories, phantom flames flickering behind his lids. Ghost faces filled his vision, death masks of people he had known since infancy etched deep into his mind and never to be forgotten. Tetsu, Saitoma, Uncle Jin. So many dead. So much blood. He had not had a taste for it before the arena. Once upon a time, he had been a simple boy, quiet and timid, sheltered and naive. How quickly that boy had died when the fires began and his mother, in a frantic bid to save her only child's life, screamed,

"Run! Takashi!"

Run where, he had wondered after his legs began moving. The answer never came; he simply ran. Out of the garden gate, down the road flanked by blazing houses, past the soldiers killing and raping. Run as far as possible, his voice of preservation demanded, spurring him with the dreadful reminder that if his little legs did not carry him far enough, fast enough, he would fall on the blades of the enemy as well.

Shiro opened his eyes. It had been ages since he had thought of that fateful evening. For his own sanity, he kept those memories locked away, under tight lock and key, airing them out on very rare occasions to keep the demons from entirely consuming him. The memories never ceased to pain him, regardless of the care he showed them. It was a pain he did not ever think he would be able to overcome. 

With unsteady breath, his mother's final cry of agony ringing in his ears, he lifted his gauntlet, angling it in the lamp light so that he could examine the characters he had careful etched into the metal with a knife. 

=====

It took three days before Shiro was able to move beyond the unpleasant memories Kaeyth had conjured and to approach the seer. Following the uncomfortable meeting, he had strongly taken to the idea of assassinating the young man in his sleep, guardian be damned. He knew not how his birth name had come to the seer's lips, but he trusted the magic not at all. 

Even so, when he approached with gauntlet in open view and other hand on the hilt of his sword, Kaeyth merely smiled from his spot among the crates of supplies. Wrapped in his furs, a bundle of sewing in his hands, he looked the picture of docile, simple village boy. The looks of a rabbit and the spirit of a wolf, Shiro thought, drifting to a halt before the young man.

"Wolf."

Shiro nodded his head slightly in what could pass as a greeting.

Kaeyth's benign smile never wavered. "You have questions."

"I do."

His eyes drifted towards Kolivan, standing several paces away, head turned in their direction, keen eyes on Shiro. As much as he distrusted the seer, the little pict's guardian appeared to trust Shiro even less, if it was humanly possible. As a show of peace, Shiro took his hand from his sword and folded his arms over his chest. It was as nonthreatening a poise as he could manage. Kaeyth laughed, putting aside his needle and thread. 

"Ask your questions, wolf." he replied cheerfully. "I will answer as best I am able."

Where to even begin? Every time he had considered approaching the young man to speak, Shiro was assaulted by a dozen new questions. He greatly disliked not knowing what others knew of him. Uncertainty was a great boon when it came to instilling fear in those around him. That someone he knew so little of in turn might know some of the intimate and secret parts of his past was unsettling. He had a burning need to uncover how much the seer knew of him.

"How did you--"

The beginnings of the question made it past his lips before the boat lurched suddenly, crates and crew thrown from their perches, all crew crying out in confusion and alarm. Shiro stumbled against the side of the hull, jerking his gaze towards the ocean. The waves were splashing harshly against the ship, water washing over the side and covering the deck. 

"Have we struck something?" Kaeyth asked, struggling to his feet.

Shiro did not answer. His gaze was trained on a great mass of white water, churning angrily some yards away. It was no pot of dolphins or small sea creature that had broadsided them. He stared hard, waiting for some sign of what beast lay lurking beneath the surface. Would it be fin, spine, tail, or tentacle? Any hundred of beasts could be preying upon them. 

Tense silence fell over the crew as they, one by one, drifted warily to the side of the ship and gazed out at the broiling ocean water. Kaeyth looked between each face, noting the fear and distress in every expression. When he turned to Kolivan, silently pleading for an explanation to the strange behavior, the man merely pointed back to the water. 

Shiro hissed suddenly, pulling back and drawing his sword, "Mateus, to the mast! Drop sail! Men, to the oars! Move! Now!"

A hand was slammed against Kaeyth's chest and he was pushed to the wet deck. 

"Stay down." Shiro growled at him.

The seer cried out indignantly at the rough handling. "What is happening?"

As if by an act of the gods, sent to answer his query, the waves split and a great, slick body heaved itself from the waters. The air filled with screams. Kaeyth stared in shock, hand flying to his mouth. In a brief moment of clarity, Shiro noted it was not fear that colored the young man's eyes, but surprise. He would dwell on it later. There was just enough time for Shiro to grab the seer by the waist and throw them both to the deck before a great tentacle swept over them, cracking the mast and toppling it into the ocean along with a lookout.

Shiro growled, scanning the deck for his lost blade. As he spotted it, a hand curled in his tunic and yanked, demanding attention. He turned to the seer, scowling in anger. 

"I do not have time for--!"

"What is it?!" Keayth demanded.

Another crack rent the air, followed by a rain of splinters. Shoving the young man off and grabbing up his sword, Shiro launched himself into battle, offering but a single gruff word: kraken.


End file.
